Twists of Fate
by squeakyfingers
Summary: Abandoned. Chapter 3 added. She twists her ring, as angels fly.
1. Fly away

Twists of Fate  
By: Allison  
E-mail: GeckoGal21@lycos.com  
Archive: Beautiful Addictions, Shipperworld, Working Love Archive, and the Graveyard.  
  
Disclaimer: I think CBS knows by now that I don't own their characters...I just use them for my own evil purposes.  
  
Summary: She twists her ring, as angels fly.  
Rated: PG  
  
A/N: Stick with me, this is a little confusing at first... but it's more angst. And what really can I say? Flame away, maybe? I don't care. Just don't read this thinking that it's going to be happy...Kleenexes everyone. Enough said. Special thanks to Manda, my partner in crime, and beta for this fic...thank you for not killing me when I told you how I wanted to write this.  
  
Chapter One: Memories  
  
You found her in the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of her Tahoe, knees pulled up to her chest, mindlessly twisting the band around her left finger. She's been there for an hour. Staring out across the Vegas night sky, bits of shredded paper scattered around her. She did not cry. She only sighed, set her chin upon her knees, and continued to stare. She never cried.   
  
And your heart breaks. As if it hadn't been already shattered into a thousand pieces, like hers, once before.   
  
"Something you did will destroy me, something you said will stay with me, long after you're dead and gone," you hear her mumble, sorrow in her voice.   
  
You don't respond, but are not baffled by her quiet sorrowful demeanor. You couldn't help but put aside you own pain to make room for some sympathy for her. Knowing that what she was feeling was so much worse.  
  
"Why'd you leave me?" she murmurs once again, to no one in particular, hair whipping in the wind, the paper surrounding her fluttering and landing on the pavement like fallen snow.  
  
Shoving your hands into your pockets, you step out of the shadows and stand beside her, leaning against the side of the car.  
  
"Whitman?" you ask out of curiosity.  
  
"Huh? What?" she asks turning around.  
  
"That quote, whatever it was that you were mumbling, Whitman?"  
  
"Oh hey, um, no it's not."  
  
The wind kicks up, and her blonde hair masks her face like a veil. She turns away from you, but you can picture the haunted look her face holds. You pull your gray jacket tighter around your body in attempts to fight off the cold that had set in. She was clad in slacks, and a plain black t-shirt, unaffected by the chill.  
  
"Sorry for startling you." Your reply was soft, but sincere, and you see her shoulders tense as you speak.  
  
"It's okay, really... I thought you were Warrick."  
  
"Are you alright? You wanna talk about it?"  
  
She doesn't answer. An awkward silence develops, and hangs in the air between the two of you. Neither sure quite what you wanted to say. She had been okay an hour ago, that you knew. Working her cases as best as she could, considering the circumstances. It wasn't until Sheriff Mobley had approached her, that she had fled out the door, feigning sickness from her medication, and telling them that she needed some air.  
  
"Isn't it funny how time slips away?" she chuckles nervously, breaking the silence between the two of you, and pulling you out of your recollection. "A year ago you wouldn't have found us like this."  
  
"You're avoiding the question."  
  
"Why does everyone ask me that question anyway? There's really nothing to talk about."  
  
You watch as she shoots a cold glare to nowhere, and no one in particular, as if the entire world around her was somehow conspiring against her. You see her shift, revealing the stark white bandage on her forehead and a sling that held her left arm stiffly in place. "I'm fine...really...I'm....I'm just fine."  
  
In all the time you've known her, you've never seen her like this. So closed off, so alone. As if she wore the aching in her heart like a badge on her sleeve, but was desperately trying to lock it up at the same time. Keep it safe; away from anyone who might want take it away, anyone who might want to try to make her forget.  
  
"Am I not allowed to be worried about you?"  
  
"There's nothing to be worried about."  
  
"You've only been out of the hospital a few days, and you're back here, trying to be superwoman. We've all been worried.... You need rest, some time to heal. You don't need to be here right now."  
  
"I want to be here." She pulled her knees up to her chest again, bringing her ring finger to her lips to brush it against them, breath misting over the cold band. Funny...she'd sworn it had been warm, the day it had been slipped onto her finger. "It was his home away from home...and if it's as close as I can get...then it's where I want to be."  
  
"Where he wanted to be, was with you..." you reply, the words tumbling out of your mouth, as if it was the first time you had ever been able to say them. You don't have to be this strong for her; you realize...some deep voice within you wishing that she'd listen to you, instead of the other way around. He'd been yours once too, or so you had thought at one time. But, in the end however, it was her bed he had slept in, and her simple, yet beautiful ring that he had worn. And you accepted it, as any friend would.  
  
The memories, they were jumbled, as they ran through your mind. All the things he'd ever said, flashing before your eyes. And as you stare out at the stars shining brightly against the pitch-black night, you know she's thinking the same thing.  
  
Wishing,  
hoping,  
praying, as she twists her ring, that he'd fly back, as an angel would; and she'd wake up with him next to her once more.  
  
TBC. 


	2. Who to Blame

Twists of Fate  
Chapter 2: Who to Blame  
  
A/N: It's short...but more is on the way soon. Hope you guys like it..  
  
The last shreds of paper have blown away, into the darkness, the last remains of her hope mingling with them, as you watch them float away. You can hear her mournful sighs, and see the tears that threaten to spill out of her sad blue eyes.  
  
"There's nothing left. Nothing," you hear her whisper, as she opens her hand to reveal a last small scrape of paper. She stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, before clenching it in her fist once again, crumpling it up, and flinging it into a sky full of sin. Of sex, and lies, and two-faced gamblers with vivid, colorful faces but no names worth remembering. It catches the breeze and dances in the wind, in a mocking fashion, and even you can't suppress the anger building inside of you.  
  
"You're left." Ripping your gaze away from the bright lights of the strip you turn to face her, a wisdom in your eyes unlike any you'd ever had before. "You're left, and you're a fighter."  
  
"What if I don't want to be a fighter any more!? What if I don't want to be strong?! I don't deserve to be here, Sara. God, how I don't deserve it."  
  
"Don't say that Catherine...Grissom, he...."  
  
"He's dead, Sara."  
  
Her words hit you hard. Momentarily rendering you speechless as if someone had just hit you with a ton of bricks. You thought by now you would be used to the idea. Used to thinking of Grissom as part of the past, and not as part of the future.   
  
"There wasn't anything you could have done. No one blames you."   
  
"I do." Catherine stated, raking her fingers through her hair before continuing. "And you do."   
  
You stare at her, your jaw dropping. And you wonder how she'd known.  
  
TBC. 


	3. Don't Hold Back, Now

A/N: I really wanted to post something before I left for school, as I don't know how much time I am going to be able to spend writing. I don't know how good this is, but here you go.  
  
Twists of Fate  
  
Chapter 3: Don't Hold Back, Now.  
  
+++++  
  
"Catherine, I don't blame you. I wasn't there. I don't know what happened beyond what Brass told me. I understand that you're upset, but I don't blame you for what happened. I never have."  
  
Your voice is deceiving, but the look in your gives you away. She knows. Everything. Her eyes are piercing. All knowing.  
  
"Yes, you do. I would blame me too. But don't tell me you understand. You don't understand a damn thing." The look on Catherine's face was not of anger, but of hurt, guilt and frustration.   
  
"You don't think I understand? He was my boss too! My friend too! Did you ever stop to think that maybe I loved him just as much as you did?" Realizing what you were admitting to Catherine, that you had fallen in love with the man she was supposed to marry, you clamped your mouth shut, face flushed with embarrassment.  
  
"Which is exactly how I know that some part of you, somewhere deep down, blames me for what happened. I know it's my fault Sara. I know that if I'd gotten there a few minutes sooner, if I had realized what was going on, then maybe I could have stopped them. Gil would still be here...admit it; you're angry!"  
  
"Maybe I am angry, but it still doesn't change anything Catherine! It doesn't change the fact that he's gone, that he's not coming back. You can't keep blaming yourself for something you can't change."   
  
Putting a hand on her shoulder, she turns to look at you, her blues eyes filled with salty tears. It's times like these where you curse your lack of people skills-your inability to relate. You hadn't expected Catherine to cry. In fact, you were almost certain this was the first time she had.   
  
This was something you weren't equipped for -you never had been.   
  
"I know he's not. God, how I wish he were. There are so many things I'd tell him. He was going to adopt Lindsey...did he ever tell you that?"  
  
"No, he didn't," you admit half-truthfully. Grissom hadn't ever told you his plans to adopt Lindsey, but you had accidentally overheard him once, while he was talking on the phone.   
  
"He loved her so much. I remember, when I was pregnant with Lindsey...he was more excited than Eddie was. Guess, I should have taken that as a sign -we wasted so many years dancing around each other...and now, I've lost him for good."  
  
"What happened out there? Maybe if you...talk about it...it'll help." you know it's not really your place to ask Catherine, but for some reason you don't really care. Brass knew what had gone down out in that desert; but then again, he had taken Catherine's statement after the fact.   
  
"I don't need to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it. I've spent the past week replaying it over and over again in my head, reliving it, trying to figure it out. Trying to figure out what went wrong. I can't do it. I can't relive that day again, just so you can understand what happened."  
  
"I can't understand something I know nothing about! I just want to know what happened. We all want to know what happened."   
  
She hesitates.  
  
You have a right to know how Grissom died, and she knows it.   
  
"Why don't you just go find Brass? He knows everything. I'm sure he'd be just as able to tell you what happened as I would."  
  
"I've tried. Apparently he has fierce loyalty to you -told me what you had said to him was in complete confidence, and that he wasn't about to break that."  
  
Another moment of silence swept between the two of you. Catherine ran her fingers through her hair, tucking the ends back behind her ears. Then she used her good right hand to straighten out her shirt.   
  
"I don't remember everything...hell, it took me two days of laying in hospital before I could really remember anything at all." She finally spoke, her eyes downcast, hands still fiddling with the hem on her shirt.  
  
"What do you remember? Start from the beginning."   
  
You watch as Catherine lets a out a soft sigh before opening her mouth to speak. "It started out as any other typical night. Slow...nothing particularly interesting going on. Unless you count seeing Greg dancing in the DNA lab trying to work his mojo, interesting..."  
  
Leaning back onto the hood of the Tahoe, you listen intently to her as she talks. It was tine to find out what really happened.  
  
TBC. 


End file.
